


keep yourself warm

by ndnickerson



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, First Time, On Set, chuck - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yvonne told him early on, jokingly, that he wasn't her type.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep yourself warm

**Author's Note:**

> Since my feelings on RPF are a little conflicted: I am not implying that any of this is even remotely close to reality or that this is their actual relationship. No disrespect is meant. Most of the resemblance to actual events is entirely coincidental.
> 
> Set at the end of Season 2/during Season 3 of Chuck, and as such, does contain mild spoilers.

1.

 

It's morning on the soundstage. It has been morning on the soundstage through all fifteen takes, because Lauer wants a lot of different angles on this scene.

 

Zac is, between takes, during takes, laughing off the jokes and thinking _Caitlin is a great girl_ and _this is perfectly natural_ and _oh fuck, who wouldn't feel this way._

 

He's had a very obvious erection since the third take.

 

It's not very professional, but then, it's not the regular circumstances of the thing, it's that Yvonne strokes his finger and the sensation fucking _radiates_ and, God, they've managed to not be in this situation enough times for this to matter. But it does.

 

And she doesn't have to part her legs like that when he rolls on top of her, except that she does, except that when he grins at her, well, Chuck has always been a hair too close to who he really is, and when he pulls back and smiles at her, it's like he's saying _you're here, you're here and she's not, and we_—

 

Yvonne told him early on, jokingly, that he wasn't her type. The kind of guy who would fumble a gun, would be more comfortable playing Call of Duty in his trailer than watch a sunset.

 

But her panties are hot and damp where they join, when they join, again, and he doesn't know if they'll see each other again after the next episode wraps, doesn't know if this incredibly lucky feverdream will stretch another few months, another few years.

 

For a very small second he lets himself make believe that it's real.

 

\--

 

2.

 

They don't talk over the hiatus, really, except when they're on press tour, doing promos. He doesn't like to see himself in the pictures but they are together, a lot. On posters, website banners, promo materials, Google image results. She smiles, laughs so much when she's not playing Sarah, during the down time when they're on the Chuck set, and he imagines her on another set on the other side of the world, gently roasting under the Australian sun, finding some man who would rather hike up a beach and cliff dive than try out the latest Rock Band.

 

But he has Caitlin. He has Caitlin. And that should be enough.

 

He wants it to be enough, very badly, but that doesn't make it true.

 

And besides, he finds out through the tabloids, Yvonne has a new boyfriend, anyway.

 

So he'll get over her.

 

\--

 

3.

 

She's in the makeup trailer, their first day back. He asks about her break (_it was so hot back home_, she says, her vowels five times longer than his, but every word feels like it has the sun in back of it somehow, _but she did a lot of her own stunts on the movie, he has to promise to watch it and not laugh at the love scene, and she is so excited to be back, and if he takes all her fight scenes away she'll quit, she promises._)

 

He's been training, for this season. His biceps strain the sleeves of his t-shirt.

 

When he walks out of the trailer, greeting the AD, he realizes that she noticed.

 

It's familiar, the scripts he's read so far. It's a reboot and Sarah's angry at Chuck for leaving her, and if he lets himself think about it he wants to say, _but Chuck would never give Sarah up, never. not even for this._

 

Mostly because he'd never give Yvonne up if he had her.

 

\--

 

4.

 

He doesn't talk about it when things with Caitlin fall apart, and from the outside it probably doesn't make any sense, the beach trip and then, suddenly, a suckerpunch via twitter and everyone knows and no one knows why. There is nothing so dramatic as another soundstage morning, rolling around on a set bed with Yvonne while the crewman twitches the lighting another degree up and he's so close he can count her eyelashes.

 

Sarah Lancaster gives him a hug, though, and Josh Gomez asks if he wants to talk (while they're playing Halo 3, anyway). And Yvonne doesn't say anything. That's okay, because he doesn't want to see that specific detached concern on her face as she asks if he's doing all right, and then texts her boyfriend as soon as he's smiled and shrugged and made the proper response.

 

Adam Baldwin's solution is a single malt. Because he's Adam Baldwin.

 

The next time he touches Yvonne, just his fingertips on her elbow as they sashay in their formal gear into another crowd scene on a dance floor, it tingles all the way up his arm.

 

It's somehow enough, this time, that he _doesn't_ have Caitlin anymore.

 

\--

 

5. 

 

They are waiting for the sun to go down over the desert for a location shot. Adam's at craft services and Yvonne is curled on the couch in her trailer, the ubiquitous cell phone in two hands a few feet from her face, her dogs curled into the triangle her bent knees make, tucked up beside her. She answers his knock and glances up when he walks in, grinning, showing those slightly uneven teeth.

 

"Did you want to go over our lines?"

 

Zac shrugs. "They're playing quarters over at craft services."

 

"Thought you didn't go for that kind of thing." Yvonne's eyebrows raise, a little wickedly, her pink tongue tracing the edge of one incisor thoughtfully before her gaze drops back to the tiny display on her phone.

 

"Well, before this scene, you're supposed to have had a concussion—"

 

"So you're just trying to help, that's it."

 

He grins, crossing his arms. "Scared I'll drink you under the table?"

 

"Hardly." She holds it a second, snaps the phone shut, and clucks to her dogs before sliding the phone into her back pocket and following him out.

 

Adam drinks them both under the table (it's only fair, he's Adam Baldwin after all) and he's always been terrible at getting the quarter into the shot glass, terrible at picking his way through this convoluted tangle of circumstances that has put him here, in something between love and lust with a woman who finds him just as adorably pathetic as the agent she plays opposite his video game-playing nerd.

 

They stagger over to makeup to have her hair put back in place, but there's a problem with the camera and the shoot will be delayed another half-hour, and she makes some crack about _oh however will we pass the time,_ her tongue rolling and gliding down those long exotic vowels, as they stumble through the door to her trailer.

 

"Say it again," he says, through the laughter that always bubbles up in him when he listens to her talk.

 

"Say what again," she begins to say, but it's swallowed when he crushes his mouth against hers, ducking in suddenly, his fingers careful in her spun-silk hair.

 

If she was going to slap him, she would have by now.

 

If she was going to throw him out, she would have by now.

 

Which leaves the slow pop of their lips parting, the slow almost painful apology in her gaze as her eyes rise to meet his.

 

"Zac."

 

"Yeah."

 

This—this thing, descending over him, this regret that he'll never be able to ignore when he sees her, is going to poison the rest of it. They could go on for another ten seasons and it will still be there, this aborted kiss. But at least he knows now.

 

Then her too-steady hands are catching the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head, just the way she did on set last week, but she's grinning, and there's none of the anguish marring her gaze as it meets his. She isn't Sarah. And he, by God, isn't Chuck.

 

Even though Chuck could not want this, could not be half as giddy over this as he is.

 

And those long vowels trill in her throat, vibrating up her tongue as she pushes it into his mouth, vibrating under his lips as he traces them down her neck, vibrating her lips as they close around the head of his cock, on that shabby couch in her trailer. He shoves the shooting script to the floor and yanks her yoga pants down, gasping as they struggle out of their clothes. Sarah would be wearing something in black lace trimmed in bows; Yvonne is wearing a sensible cotton bra and sensible cotton panties, the warmth of her skin still lingering in the folds as he pulls them off.

 

The single malt burns against their tangling tongues as she straddles him, knees sliding up past his hips on the couch cushion, and he can't stop touching her, she's so damn hot and smooth and beautiful.

 

She bucks a little when he slides forward, her hair in her face and a soft glowing flush in her cheeks and her hips already grinding down against his, and he can't stop himself from grinning.

 

Sometimes the geek really does get the girl.


End file.
